Always The Little Guy
by imthekeptainnow
Summary: Regardless of what everyone thinks, it's not Chekov who bends over for the Captain. Kirk/Chekov. BossyTop!Chekov.


**Disclaimer:**** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**_So I finally finished the Kirk/Chekov porny story. Top!Chekov as promised. I thought about having blushing awkward virgin Top!Chekov but it turned into determined knows what he wants bossy top!Chekov. I'm sure that's just as good. I made an attempt with the accent, so you know, sorry if it's bad. Also, first Star Trek fic so go easy on me please. I'd love to know what you think! - K_**

* * *

It was common knowledge upon the U.S.S Enterprise that James Kirk and Pavel Chekov were in some kind of relationship that was more than just Captain and Ensign. It wasn't something either of the men had explicitly admitted to, but they didn't exactly keep it a secret either. Jim would smirk and flirt, say or do things he knew that would garner a response from the younger man and Pavel was always close, whenever they weren't on the bridge, all bright smiles and excited speech and most of the crew were certain, even with his young age, the kid could play the game as well as their Captain.

After that, everything was speculation and rumour more than anything.

Were they dating? Or was it just sex? Chekov didn't seem like the type of man to just want one thing, but Kirk's reputation preceded him and well, it seemed unlikely that he would settle down. Maybe it was exclusive for one but not the other. A few of the nurses and some of the engineers had spoken out to having slept with Kirk and why would they lie? There was no reason to - unless they wanted to cause trouble, which, if they did, didn't seem to be working because the two looked as happy as ever.

James was confronted on a few occasions, by women who wanted to spend the night with the infamous James T Kirk, and men who were either interested in Pavel or wanted to congratulating him on his conquest. To be honest, Kirk could never really be sure. But still, each time, he would smile and crack a joke, maybe admitting something vague and for the most part, untrue about their sex life that seemed enough to satisfy their prying.

Chekov was often found himself approached by women wearing pitying expressions as they warned him about the Captain's reputation, and even a few crude comments about how well he could _take_ it. Pavel never responded to them, at least not with anything more than a smile, because well, he found it a little funny that they always assumed it was _him_ that was on the bottom, who spread his legs for the Captain.

He had of course, on a few occasions and the rumours didn't do Jim justice at exactly how good he was at wringing every little bit of pleasure out of his sexual partners, but it was more often that not that Kirk was the one on his knees, legs parted, arse in the air and begging for whatever he could get.

Pavel ran his hands along James' sides, a comforting gesture that encouraged the shivers to subside from his body. Pavel watched the trembling in James' strong thighs, a sign of just how difficult it was to keep control, and he couldn't help but grin at the sight. He dropped kisses to the small of Kirk's back, trailing along the curve of his arse. He felt the muscles clenched beneath his lips and he bit down on the flesh once for good measure.

James let out a shaky moan. "Fuck, Pav…" his voice trailed off into pants, unable to fully pronounce his name, "This just…get on with it would ya?" he demanded.

"Get on wit it," Chekov repeated slowly, "Get on wit _what_ Keptin?" His hands retraced the path his lips took, settling on the cheeks and tapping a beat before gripping and spreading the globes apart so Jim was on display. "Get on wit diz?"

James clenched at the brush of cold air and nodded sharply, his breathing shuddered.

Chekov hummed and nodded, as if in understanding. "You may need to be more specific Keptin," he advised. He licked his lips, "Do you want diz?"

Before there was time to respond, he dipped his head and simply pressed the tip of his tongue to the pink skin. He heard James curse and he grinned, tracing the rim gently before pressing the flat of his tongue there, lathering at the muscle that shook beneath the touch. He had to admit that rimming was perhaps his favourite thing to do in bed. It was so close, so intimate, and the way Jim reacted to it. It made him feel powerful to bring his Captain to this heightened need, where he couldn't speak in full sentences and couldn't control the spasms of his body. It made him press closer, lick harder, hands flexing and leaving red marks in the skin.

Kirk gasped and bit down harshly on his forearm to suppress his whines of pleasure. His chest tightened and his breathing shook and he rocked his hips backwards onto Chekov's fucking talented tongue. He would say he regretted ever teaching the ensign about this but who was he kidding? He fucking loved this. He loved the fact that he wasn't in control anymore, he loved how eager Pavel was to learn and do. It was…

His thoughts died on him quickly when a long finger slid into arse. It wiggled beside Chekov's tongue, still wet and probing and determined. A curse slipped pasted his lips and he tightened around the two intruders. He felt Pavel's noise of objection or pleasure – he was too far gone to notice – but he did loosen up slightly and everything sunk in deeper.

"_Pavel…_"

Chekov pulled away slightly, slipping in a second finger to replace his tongue and watched the gaping hole with darkened eyes. James was so greedy for it, opening up so easily for him. Pavel spread his fingers and leant forward to blow cold air onto the opening, laughing throatily when Kirk's whole body jerked violently, as if he had been shocked.

"Glad you're finding this funny," James hissed out, frustrated.

Chekov just arched an eyebrow innocently. "Not funny Keptin, but you are so _sensitive._" The pads of his fingers rubbed against the inside walls of James' arse, and he slid a third in, pressing and pistoning. He felt Kirk tensing, the wetness no doubt drying by now, and spat on his fingers, but didn't slow down his movements.

James' hips thrust backwards, taking more and shuddered a little at the squelching sound as he became more pliant beneath Chekov's hands. He was so hard. The feeling of tongue and fingers had been enough to distract him from it for a while, just enjoy the strange and burning sensations but now; it was almost as if his cock had given up on keeping quiet. Pre-cum leaked onto the sheets below and, with each roll of his body downwards, his cock slapped against his stomach and just…he wasn't sure how long he could last. And he didn't want to cum like this. He could, he knew, without even wrapping a hand around his cock but he wanted to cum with Pavel's hips pressed against his arse, filling him, hands on his hips.

"Now, you need to…" James' swallowed and rocked down desperately, as if that would get his point across. He probably did, he had no doubt that Chekov knew exactly what he wanted, what he needed, but the kinky teen liked to hear him say it. "Fuck, Pavel, would you just…_fuck me. Please._"

"Since you asked so nicely," Pavel teased, before reluctantly removing his hand. He dropped a kiss to the man's back again, his lips sliding up to rest on James' shoulder as he positioned himself behind. The head of his cock, red and leaking, nudged at James' rim, sliding in slightly before biting down on his bottom, pushed in. He winced when Kirk clenched down on him.

"James," he whispered hoarsely, "You need to zet me in."

Kirk blinked, as if trying to comprehend the words and nodded soundlessly. He breathed out heavily and closing his eyes, relaxed and Chekov slid into him quickly. He heard Pavel gasp out quickly in his ear, and mutter something in Russian. James had been trying to learn and he thought maybe he was getting better at it, but now, so full and hard, his body trembling with pleasure and his mind just so blank with anything but Pavel; it was unlikely he'd actually be able to understand what was being said. All he did know was that the rough, lustful Russian was fucking hot.

Chekov's hands wrapped around Kirk's waist, encouraging James to rock downwards onto his cock. It felt good – better than good, _amazing_. James was always so tight, and it was rough, as it always was when they didn't use lube and Pavel didn't think he was going to last that long - especially not when James gapped, his head rolling backwards so their faces were pressed together and his hands moving to grasp Chekov's thighs, getting some purchase to thrust onto.

He muttered praises in Russian, and thrust forward faster, the sound of flesh hitting flesh getting louder until it was deafening to his ears. He pressed a kiss to Kirk's cheek and the underside of his jaw. He nipped sharply at the skin there. Pavel licked at the pooling sweat in the grooves of his shoulder muscles as his hands moved to grip Kirk's cock.

James groaned at the touch and jerked upwards into the hold when a thumb brushed over the head of his cock, collecting his cum and spreading it over the shaft.

"I want you to cum," Pavel managed to get out, "I want you to be covered in it."

James shivered at the words, at the image that brought to mind, and nodded sharply. "Too close," he slurred out.

Chekov hummed. "Good."

His movements sped up, getting erratic and jerky and his balls tightened up towards his body. He clenched his eyes shut and shouted out when he finally came. James' gasped at the sudden burst that hit his prostate head on and stayed there. It always seemed strange to him, having sex without a condom, but the first time they had tried, he had understood completely. It was the closeness of it, the filthiness and the knowledge that even when he wasn't there, Pavel was still inside of him. The tightness and the stretch, the feeling of Pavel coming is what finally brought him to the edge. His cock twitched and painted across his stomach, his chest and Chekov's hand.

James breathed harshly, the pleasure and the heat giving way to the cold and the contentment. He felt the soft kisses that the ensign pressed to his shoulder and his neck, the gentle caresses of his hands when they brushed the red marks and indents of hands and fingernails. He winced a little when Chekov pulled out, the emptiness hitting him and he tried to clench down on nothing. Pavel mutter something soothing in Russian and gently urged him onto his front – "to make sure my cum doezn't fall out in ze night," he had explained once more.

"And how do you know that?" James had arched an eyebrow.

Chekov blushed. "I read about it…"

Now, it was just second nature. Kirk didn't question the ritual movements of the teen, although he still whined in displeasure when he was left alone for the moments it took Pavel to get a cloth from the en suite and clean them up.

Then Chekov would lie down beside Jim, bury himself half under his Captain's body, and nuzzle into the flesh at the crook of his neck. James smiled lazily and the kid would beam in return.

Kirk still couldn't quite believe that the kinky bastard that had fucked him only moments before, had licked him and filled him and then wanted to keep him filled for as long as possible, could be the same person as the one below him now and how he was on the bridge, wide eyed and excited and utterly adorable.

James dropped a kiss to Chekov's Cupid's bow. "Later, I get to fuck you, like to see how long you can last."

Pavel chuckled lowly, one hand reaching up to run through his Captain's hair. James breathed out, satisfied, and his eyes slid shut.

"Of course, but later," he ordered, "Rest now."

If Kirk wasn't already half asleep, he probably would have made a comment about that.

The next day, when the progress of knowing looks and snide comments came towards him, Chekov knew he could tell them the truth of the matter. Jim wouldn't mind, he knew, bottoming wasn't something that he was ashamed of, but Pavel knew he would never do that. Because those moments, when they're alone together, fucking or not, they were his and James. It was between them, and he had no desire to share those moments – or Jim for that matter – with anyone else.

* * *

**_For fic updates or if you have any prompts, follow me on .com :)_**


End file.
